


Just In Time 4 Us

by WatsonMySherlock, WordaholiC (WatsonMySherlock)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Bar Wench Emma Swan, F/M, I don't want to spoil anything on these tags, Past Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7384222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatsonMySherlock/pseuds/WatsonMySherlock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatsonMySherlock/pseuds/WordaholiC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starting 3x21 Emma goes back in time but Killian is left behind. Still, to get back to her family, she needs to enroll the help of the notorious Captain Hook. Stuck in the past for several days with the dashing rapscallion, how will it change things between them if she ever does get back? Back to the future CS fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to the CS fandom and the wonderful Shelby. If you really like a line here, she probably edited it. I hope you enjoy and find the time to leave a comment and tell us what you think. Without further ado, here it is! Just In Time 4 Us :)

Check out the ["picture trailer"](http://i-am-wordaholic.tumblr.com/post/146523691594/what-if-emma-had-gone-through-zelenas-portal) for this fic on my tumblr and track the updates with the tag #back to the future CS fic

 

 

**_-Prologue-_ **

Emma’s fingers clutched desperately to the leather of Killian’s sleeve while she hugged Henry’s book to her chest, the hardcover digging painfully into her ribs. Zelena’s time portal swirled angrily at her feet, pulling her and beckoning her into the unknown.

She looked up and locked eyes with the pirate.

“Hold on, Emma!”

She could barely hear him over the roar of the portal and her own terrified screams. Everything that wasn’t strapped down was whooshing past them and into the light. She threw her weight to the side to avoid a wooden plank heading straight for her face, making Killian dig his fingers harder into her skin.

“I’m not letting you go this time, Swan, come on!” he yelled.

“I can’t!”

Emma’s knuckles were starting to cramp. Killian was her last tether to this world, his hook firmly anchored in the hard, packed ground of the barn.

Emma tried to adjust her fingers around Killian’s wrist without letting go of his jacket but it was impossible. Her efforts were halted by the ominous sound of Killian’s jacket ripping, sending Emma an inch closer into the light. Both stricken, they looked at each other.

His blue eyes were wild and desperate. Killian’s veins popped angrily against the reddening skin of his forehead.

“The book, Emma,” he said through gritted teeth. “You have to let go of the book!”

Emma looked down at the storybook and closed her eyes tightly before loosening her hold and letting her son’s precious book be dragged away by the dark magic.

Her heart felt heavy but she didn’t have time to mourn the loss of the storybook. With her hand now free, Emma reached up to Killian. Her fingers circled around his wrist tightly and she flashed him a hopeful smile in response to the one in his eyes.

“I’ve got you, Swan.”

The words didn’t even have time to reach her spirit as the end of his jacket sleeve tore off completely. Before either of them could do anything, Killian’s hand slipped through her fingers like desert sand and Emma fell helplessly into the swirling portal.

“No!” Killian howled with a force that sliced the air.

He tried to free his hook from the ground, but it was too late. Golden hair and red leather jacket disappeared before his eyes, sucking the oxygen out of the room in the midst of Emma’s last desperate cry.

“Hooooook!”

Then, there was silence. Emma was gone.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma's alone... but where?

** **

 

**_-Chapter 1-_ **

Emma’s cheek met the ground so hard it bounced back, her hair spilling across her face.

She pushed herself up, wincing at the pain, and dusted off her leaf-covered jeans. The torn strap of leather was still clutched in her hand. She thought about leaving it there on the ground but as she stared at the soft, worn material, she just couldn’t find it in herself to let go. Instead Emma tied the strap around her left wrist like a bracelet, the way Killian had tied it around her wounded hand at the top of the bean stock.

She took off her glove and brought her fingers up to check the stinging feeling on her face. There were a few drops of crimson blood on her fingertips. It was a small cut but it was there and would probably leave a mark for a few days.

Emma took a look around and sighed, letting her head hang for a moment while her hands rested on her knees. The tall trees, the bright green moss, and that untouched look of everything around her like she’d been dropped right in the heart of Yellowstone. _If only I were that lucky._

Emma knew exactly where she was: The Enchanted Forest, in all of its fairytale glory. Only this time, she was there alone.

_Damn it!_  As she straightened up, Emma cursed the day she set foot in Storybrooke again. This portal nonsense, it was insanity! How many of these had she gone through already? _Two? Three?_ More if you counted the wardrobe. It was exactly why she needed to grab Henry and get the hell back to New York as soon as possible, away from the fairytales and the curses, the monsters, and most of all, _away from all the god damned portals_!

She took a few hesitant steps surveying the woods around her. Her eyes spotted the light brown corner of Henry’s book just a few feet away by the intricate root of an old fig tree. Emma grabbed it and ran her hand over the golden letters carved across the cover.

“Henry.” Her son’s name was like a mantra. He was waiting for her. Now was not the time to get desperate, it was time to get moving and figure out a way home.

With a deep breath, Emma tucked the book under her arm and started walking, this time with a little more determination. The woods took on a gentle slope and she followed it down, hoping it would lead her to a road or a river, anything that would give her some sense of direction in her unfamiliar birthplace.

... . ... . ... . ...

As she walked, Emma kept her head on a swivel, taking in the slightest details of her surroundings. How long had she been walking? Even the book was becoming too much weight to carry. Finally the trees started to thin and the downward slope opened onto a small circular clearing.

The trees surrounding it rose high above the forest floor, their tops touching to create a dome that kept the clearing in shade. A cool breeze blew the soft curls of Emma’s hair across her face and made her squeeze her eyes in it’s wake. It was so peaceful that Emma forgot she was lost in time for a moment.

A very short moment that ended when a band of birds took off flying from beyond the tree line, their wings whirring furiously past the tree tops into the clear blue sky.

Emma’s head snapped in that direction and she waited. Once the chirping died down, the unmistakable clattering of hooves reached her through the trees, mixed with the deep notes of someone singing. Whoever it was had no musical talent but more importantly they were getting closer.

She considered meeting them head on. If they could point her in the direction of… _where?_   Emma was so lost at this point any sort of information would be an improvement. But then perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea for just anyone to see her. What if the portal had dropped her off in a time where there were ogres? It’d happened before. Emma doubted ogres could sing but still-

The sounds were dangerously close now so she ducked behind the closest tree she could reach. It was a sturdy one, big and tall, and it hid her completely from whoever was approaching. Emma hugged Henry’s book to her chest and tried to even her jagged breathing while she waited.

She contemplating poking her head out to see if the incomer had made it to the clearing but something caught her eye on the tree directly across from her. It was a hand-painted sign on a piece of cloth nailed to the tree. The _face_ on the sign, though,  was one Emma knew very well.

**WANTED**

**SNOW WHITE**

**For crimes against the Queen:**

**MURDER,**

**TREASON,**

**TREACHERY**

 

Emma stood there, little wrinkles creasing her forehead as she took in the delicate lines of her mother's face. _So, no ogres then._ Instead, it meant Zelena’s portal had dropped her in a more dangerous time, a time when Regina’s evil persona, the Evil Queen, was still a real and serious threat. All the more reason to remain hidden from whoever was coming and wait.

When the newcomer turned out to be a single horse pulling a creaky old wagon, Emma breathed a sigh of relief. It reminded her of the covered wagons in those western movies David liked so much (he always made them watch one of those when it was his turn to pick on movie night), except this one didn’t have a canvas over the cart. Emma could see all sorts of copper pots, pans and big jute sacks cramped into the small cart, most likely wares for sale.

A wrinkly old man sat at the front of the wagon with a straw hat on his head holding the reins. He was still singing his off-key tune, completely unaware of Emma’s presence, as the wagon made its way lazily through the clearing.

The wagon curved away from Emma and she spotted the hood of a rich brown cloak peering out of one of the sacks near the end of the cart. An idea formed in her head, a bad one admittedly, and the moment it did, she knew she’d go for it anyway.

Perhaps it was the teenage thief still inside her deep down, the fact was she needed to make herself as forgettable as possible in case anyone she knew spotted her roaming around the Enchanted Forest before her time. Red leather jackets and grey turtlenecks were not the way to go if she wanted to go by unnoticed. _They probably don’t come into fashion here well...ever._ She needed something to disguise herself with so… stealing the cloak it was.

Emma pressed Henry’s book tightly to her side  and steeled herself, conjuring up her old runaway legs, before she darted out straight towards her target. With the adrenaline rushing through her veins, Emma reached the wagon and closed her fingers around the velvety fabric of the cloak and pulled. She pulled so forcefully in fact that she yanked the cloak right out of the sack and brought down the set of copper pots that were stacked perilously on top of each other next to it.

Of course the ruckus got the old man’s attention and he pulled on the reins, making the horse stand on its hinds and neigh loudly, protesting the sudden strain.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing, miss? HEY!”

Emma was already running with all her might in the opposite direction, away from the old man and his cart. The stolen cloak waved wildly in the wind like a flag, proclaiming Emma’s theft to the forest creatures as she made her escape.

“Come back, you thief!”

Emma winced, giving the old man an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

“Sorry!” she yelled, but her feet kept on going, putting as much distance as possible between her and the scene of the crime.

... . ... . ... . ...

Emma leaned over a boulder trying to catch her breath. The only reason she’d stopped was because she honestly could not run anymore. Fortunately, the old man was nowhere to be seen or heard, and there didn’t seem to be anyone else following her either. The last thing she needed was Regina’s goons coming after her thinking it’d been Snow White who robbed the poor old man.

_Like mother like daughter._ Emma thought. Apparently Hook had been more right than he thought when he’d called her out at Granny’s for resembling Mary Margaret.

Once she felt her lungs were working properly again, Emma examined her stolen treasure. The cloak was long and heavy. It didn’t look particularly expensive, the brown fabric fused with the colour of the humid dirt floor, but Emma could see the amount of handy work that had gone into the velvety accents that covered the fabric in swirling patterns. She was so accustomed to clothes being practical back in her world –in her time- that the simple garment felt like a luxury costume when she draped it over her shoulders.

It was a tad too big for her, pooling about three inches past her boots, which was a good thing. The whole point of stealing the cloak was to hide her real clothes as much as possible. She tied the three pairs of strings on the front of the cloak, the lowest of them coming about the same height as her bellybutton. There was a broach pinned near the collar, two metallic leaves joined at the centre by a single link. She pinned the end of each leaf to one side of the collar securing the fabric around her neck.

Emma started to get anxious. The weight of her situation was coming down on her again, pressing heavily on her shoulders and making her a little short of breath. The blonde shrugged it off, bringing forth thoughts of Henry, and instead gathered all her hair in a loop at the base of her neck. She pulled the hood up over her eyes and thought at least that way if the old man had a sign made for her, they wouldn’t be able to peg her as the golden-haired bandit with a thing for second-hand cloaks.

The sound of hooves stomping hard against the ground broke throughout the forest for the second time since Emma had landed here and she ducked behind the rock just in time for a group of iron clad riders to fly by on top of shiny black horses.

From her viewpoint behind the rock, Emma saw the riders, black knights from the looks of it, go a little further into the woods and then stop. A royal carriage drove past Emma then, pulling up where the riders had gathered.

There was a small settlement there, a village. Emma hadn’t even seen it, too preoccupied with who could be pursuing her to notice what was right in front of her.

Wanting to see what was going on in the village, maybe get a better reading of her situation or a clue on how to get back, she risked a change of hiding place. Emma settled for a low bush just on the edge of the little village, if you could call it that, and crouched behind it watching the scene unfold.

A few villagers were already forming a sloppy line in front of the menacing knights. Marco, from back home, was standing right there with little wooden August by his side.

The door of the carriage opened then to reveal Regina, dressed in black leather riding pants. She was half covered by a skin-tight red coat and her long, dark curtain of hair fell low on her back. A wide brim hat with an elaborate headdress shaded her eyes.

“What the hell?” Emma frowned.

_That’s not Regina, love, that’s the Evil Queen,_ a cocky, accented voice in her head reminded her.

Emma toyed with the strap of leather around her wrist. Did she miss Killian? She’d rather think it was more that she wished she wasn’t alone in this, but still the pirate’s presence would be a welcomed addition to her situation _._ They did make quite the team...

“Listen to me very carefully.” Regina started pacing in front of the villagers and as she approached, they cowered back trying to make themselves invisible. “Whatever squalor and despair your pathetic little lives have been able to tolerate until this point is _nothing_ compared to the pain and misery _I_ can inflict if I leave here unhappy. You _will_ help me,” she sentenced.

Marco stepped forward from the group, doing his best to keep August tucked behind him, and tried to reason with her. Of course, Regina would not have it.

“If I find out anyone in this village has been helping the bandit Snow White,” Regina threatened, “they will suffer dearly.” Her face twisted in an evil grin and she gestured to two of her guards.

The knights brought out a struggling woman. Her hands were tied and she had a sack covering her face.

“Here is what helping Snow White looks like,” Regina spat. The guards removed the sack and the frightened woman looked frantically around

“Help me, plea-”

The words were cut off when Regina reached into her chest and pulled the woman’s heart out in one swift motion. There was a uniform gasp from everyone not in Regina’s entourage, including Emma who put a hand over her mouth to cover her shock.

The woman gaped, her eyes fixed on the heart glowing outside her chest and before Emma could process what was going on, Regina closed her hand around the beating heart and crushed it. The ashes crumbled from the Queen’s fingers to the ground, as did the woman’s lifeless body. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut off, she fell to the ground empty of all life.

Emma felt sick to her stomach. She turned her head away and waited for Regina and her knights to leave, taking the woman’s body with them.

If only she’d landed in a different time, one where she could turn to Regina for help. Regina had become her mentor, her friend. She would understand how important it was for Emma to get back to Henry, to their son.

But not _this_ Regina. Here, Regina was a cruel and evil villain, nothing more. What Emma saw in the queen’s smile was pure, unadulterated hatred. Getting help from her was out of the question. If Regina caught so much as a glimpse of Emma’s face, she would definitely remember and even if she didn’t know who she was exactly she would kill her on the spot.

The coast being clear, Emma stood up from behind the bush and tucked her hair further into the hood. She walked over to the village, heading for Marco’s cottage. The villagers were slowly returning to their chores, their faces marked by fear.

“Excuse me, uh, sir.” Emma kept her head down. She even made her voice softer than usual. It was a miracle Marco could hear her at all. “Could you maybe tell me how to get to a road? I’m… a little lost.”

Marco was clearly wary of her -the impact of Regina’s visit still hung on the air- but his shoulders began to relax slowly as he took in Emma’s non-threatening demeanor.

“Well, young lady,” he said in that start-and-stop way of his, “that depends on where it is you’re going, really.”

_Where I’m going. Right. Good question._

“Why don’t you come in?” Marco offered. “I’ll have my boy fetch you some water from the well. You look like you could use the pause, maybe put your thoughts in order.”

She couldn’t take him up on his offer. It was one thing to be a passing stranger, but becoming a house guest would make too much of an impression on their memories. Still, Marco’s kindness was something she recognized in this warped reality she’d landed in and his idea of a pause didn’t sound bad at all. She needed to sit down somewhere safe and come up with a game plan.

“Um, actually, I just need to get to a boarding house, or some place to stay for the night perhaps?  So if you could tell me where that is...”

_I might even need to get a job. Who knows how long I’m gonna be stuck here…_

“Well, in that case,” Marco said, “you need to head for the docks.”

He gestured to a spot over Emma’s shoulder and she turned to follow his gaze. There was a narrow path extending beyond the village. It followed a semi straight line through the forest.

“It’s not that far from here,” Marco said. “Follow the path until you meet the broad road and then it should be ten minutes or so before you get the smell of salt in the air and seagulls flying over your head.”

Emma turned to face him.

“Thank you.”

Marco nodded. “There’s a tavern there. It has a few boarding rooms and the girl who runs it, Tiana, she’ll take care of you.”

Her lips curled in a soft smile and she took a deep breath.

“I better get going then.”

“Just steer clear of the sailors, child. They have a way with words,” Marco warned her.

_Don’t I know it…_

Emma felt a hesitant tug on the side of her cloak and when she looked down, it was August’s tiny wooden hand closed around the brown fabric. The boy pointed down at her boots.

“I like your shoes, miss. They’re real pretty.”

Emma laughed. “Thanks, kid. I like your hat.”

August beamed at her. If he could blush, he probably would have. The boy ran off and Emma watched him climb up to a tree behind his cottage.

“It seems my boy Pinocchio has taken a liking for  you, my lady,” Marco said.

She smiled. “He seems like a good kid.”

August was close to reaching the top. _A good climber for a puppet._

“He’s a sweet boy, means well,” Marco said, his words dripping with fatherly love.

Emma missed August, _her_ _August_ , the one with the motorcycle, and the kindred spirit. What was it with her and men in leather jackets?

“I should go,” she said. “Thank you… for everything.”

Hopefully that conveyed the magnitude of things she was thankful for. _Thank you for being a familiar face in an unfamiliar place, for being kind to a stranger, for raising one of the few real friends I’ve ever had_ …

“Take care, child,” Marco replied and after giving him a final nod as goodbye, Emma was on her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter comes up on Sunday. Feel free to leave a comment and share your thoughts so far. Lots of love! xoxo, Wordaholic (aka WatsonMySherlock)


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma makes a new friend... sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wish for you writers out there is that you find a beta as amazing as mine. To Shelby! Here's Chapter 2, hope you all enjoy xD

Check out the tag "#back to the future CS fic" for all things related to Just In Time 4 Us like sneak peeks, [posters](http://i-am-wordaholic.tumblr.com/post/147118231694/chapter-2-is-almost-done-just-two-more-days-until), [character sets](http://i-am-wordaholic.tumblr.com/post/147129460129/just-in-time-4-us-original-character-sets1), discussions and more.

  

**_\- Chapter 2 -_ **

The walk, though exhausting, had been uneventful. By the time Emma caught the first whiff of salt in the air, it was evening already and the sun had started to descend. The ample dirt road she’d followed out of the forest had begun to narrow and the trees flanking it on either side were replaced by wood and stone lodgings. Soon Emma’s once solitary trek became an endless stream of “Evening, miss” and “How-d'ye-do” as everyone who passed her by felt the need to make friendly eye contact.

The men tipped their hats and bent their heads as if by reflex as she walked by and Emma had to will herself not to jump out of her skin every time. Instead she forced curt nods and even managed the occasional tight-lipped smile in return. The truth was after a year living in New York, Emma had become conditioned to fear unbidden kindness from strangers. _Still, better that than corsets and fairytales_ , Emma mulled and picked up her pace, eager to be done with this day.

The dirt road gave way to a cobblestone street and Emma’s boots struggled for a few steps as she adjusted to the new terrain. She could hear the ocean now, loud yet soothing. The waves crashed over and over again, dominating the atmosphere even as the villagers’ chatter grew louder around her and Emma became surrounded by the sounds of coastal life. Bells rang in the distance mixed in with the high pitched squeal of seagulls. _Just like Marco said_ , Emma thought as she took in a deep breath, letting her lungs fill up with the salty air.

Knowing it wouldn’t be long before her body gave out, Emma set out to look for the boarding house Marco had told her about. She did her best to stay out of people’s way, keepìng her head low and Henry’s book close to her body. It took a bit of eavesdropping but Emma finally found a couple of young teenage boys, one with shaggy dark hair that reminded her of Henry’s and the other one with short blond curls, who were apparently headed to the pub “for some ale and a look at Rosie, eh mate?” one of the boys had said, throwing his arm around his friend’s shoulders and flashing him a crooked grin.

As she followed them through the cobblestone alleys and narrow passageways, Emma wondered if it was something in the seawater that gave sailors, even young ones, that devil-may-care attitude she’d come to know so well. A few turns later the boys reached “Tiana’s Place”, the name written on a small wooden sign dangling above a set of swinging doors. The two boys went in and Emma followed after them.

The small tavern was crowded, especially near the entrance where a group of men with heavy boots and women with waist-squeezing corsets were laughing and drinking, gathered around one of the tables. Emma tried not to look at any one spot for too long, instead keeping her eyes cast low and her hood up.

The boys she’d followed headed straight for the bar, the dark-haired one yelling out “Hey, Rosie, how ‘bout some ale and a smile?” as they each took a seat on one of the tall, rustic wooden stools. Emma moved away from them towards the back and chose the empty table in the corner, where she could keep an eye on the room without calling too much attention to herself.

As she sat down, Emma could feel the adrenaline drain out of her body and be replaced by exhaustion. Her muscles ached and she pinched the bridge of her nose to fight off the piercing headache that began to shoot between her eyes. It was more than just the physical wear. Now that she finally had a chance to sit down and breathe, Emma realised how tired she was of keeping the panic at bay. Her run-in with Regina at the forest village had only served to intensify the tension in her shoulders but she knew she couldn’t let her worries run free just yet, not before she figured out what her next move would be.

“What can I get you?”

Emma clutched the book in her hands at the sudden intrusion. The woman before her narrowed her eyes at what had to be the look of utter terror on Emma’s face.

“You alright?”

She seemed to be around Emma’s age, possibly younger. Her skin was a tawny, yellowish brown, and she was slender, somewhat delicate in her simple corset-gathered dress. Her head, crowned by a poufy bun of inky ringlets tied back from her face with a thin headband, was tilted to the side as she waited for her customer to answer the question.

“I’m fine,” Emma managed and glanced down at the wooden table. “I… I don’t have any mon- anything to pay with.”

Was she supposed to say coins? What was the currency in the Enchanted Forest anyway? _And to think Mary Margaret and David want to move_ back _to this place…_

“Well, then you must not be here for the food… or the drink. Or lodging,” the woman said.

 _Great, now she thinks I’m a bum_. The curly-haired woman looked like she had encountered her fair share of those.

Emma brought her hands up from under the table and laced them together in front of her, keeping her eyes fixed on her entwined fingers.

“I just needed somewhere to sit for a moment and think. I’ve been on my feet for a while.”

She ventured a glance up and found the woman studying her with big almond eyes and pursed pouty lips. Emma could almost see the wheels in the woman's head turning.  _She's probably thinking '_ _what’s the fastest way to kick out this coinless drifter?’_

“Here’s what we’ll do,” the woman said finally, bringing out a small leather-bound pad from one of the pockets in her apron. She started writing something down on it instead of looking at Emma. “I’m gonna bring you a jug of water -to help with the thinking,” she explained at Emma’s confused look- “and you’re not going to steal anything from my storage or my bar while you’re here. Deal?” She dropped the pad back in her apron and met Emma with a stern look. There was kindness in the slight curve of the woman’s mouth but she masked it well.

Emma returned the favour with a timid smile of her own. “Thank you.”

“Mm-hmm,” the woman muttered in response and she gave Emma one last appraising look before she turned on her heel, heading towards the bar.

Emma dropped her head on top of her joined hands and closed her eyes, cataloging the sounds around her. Booming cheers and “ahoys” were punctuated by the clinking of glasses and Emma figured it was probably that group she’s spotted by the door. They seemed to be getting increasingly excited about something, as the cheers grew louder and the expressions more colourful. Emma tried to tune them out so she could concentrate on her own thoughts but it was a fool’s errand. Apparently even fairytale bars couldn’t escape their fill of annoying drunks.

She was brought out of her reverie by a thud on the table as the woman from before placed a tall mug in front of her. It was filled to the brim with foamy beer and Emma turned a quizzical brow at her.

“Better for thinking than plain old water,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. A few dark corkscrews had escaped from her frizzy up-do and they bounced over her forehead, softening her keen eyes and sharp eyebrows.

Emma circled her hands around the cool mug and ventured a sip, trying –and failing- to avoid getting foam on her nose and lips. She hummed in appreciation. She hadn’t expected the liquid to be any good but as it went down her throat, it reminded her of being at Granny’s, of being home.

“That _is_ a lot better,” Emma said, licking off the foam as best she could.

The woman kept her eyes trained on Emma, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for you?”

Emma remembered what Marco had said to her before sending her on her way.

“Well, actually, there is one thing. I’m looking for a woman,” Emma said. “Tiana? I was told she works here.”

“Well this _is_ Tiana’s place after all...” the woman said, raising her eyebrow at Emma’s gift for missing the obvious. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and the creases on her forehead deepened slightly. “What do you want with her?”

“My friend, Mar-... _Geppetto,_ he said she could help me.”

The dark-haired woman considered Emma carefully. The blonde thought she was about to be dismissed but instead the woman pulled out a heavy chair across from Emma and sat down.

“Well if Gepetto says I can, then I can,” she said setting her cleaning rag on the table.

Emma raised her brows in disbelief. “ _You_ ’re Tiana?”

“Only one around here. Why? Not what you were expecting?”

“No, no, it’s just… I thought...I thought you’d be older.”

Tiana’s mouth curled up. “If it’s any consolation, I _feel_ older. Working in a kitchen since I was able to hold a spoon will do that to a girl.”

Emma could relate. If anyone knew that _childhood_ was a relative term, it was her.

“So, you know who I am,” Tiana continued. “Now how about you tell me who _you_ are, other than uncle Giuseppe’s friend.”

“I’m…” Emma hesitated. “Swan.”

“Swan...,” Tiana echoed, leaning back against her chair.

“Uh-huh.” Emma made a point of holding Tiana’s watchful gaze.

Emma figured if her mother’s name was Snow and people were OK calling her father _Charming_ of all things, why couldn’t her name be Swan?

The blonde cuffed the leather strap around her wrist and started twisting it around. _Hook calls me that, it can’t be that weird._

There was no way she was using her real name so close to Regina’s stomping grounds. And if Regina was around then Gold wasn’t too far behind and she did _not_ want to open that can of worms. The Dark One was too much of a loose cannon, not to mention selfish and conniving, and, for all she knew, she’d already messed with the future enough as it was just by talking to Marco.

Suddenly Emma was seized by panic. What if she did get back and there was no Henry to begin with? What if things had _already_ been changed beyond repair just by her being here? What if-

 _Ah, no need to be antsy, love. Focus!_ Emma let go of her wrist like it was on fire and tucked her hand back under the table as if not seeing the black strap would silence Killian’s witty commentary in her head.

She’d been spending too much time with the pirate since getting back from New York and now that he was gone, her mind craved the easy banter. That was all.

Tiana shuffled in her seat and Emma focused on her, anxious to hear her verdict. Did she trust her or not?

“Alright, _Swan_ , what is it that I can do for you?”

Emma’s whole body relaxed. Finally a move in the right direction. She was one step closer to getting back to the future. _If only I had a DeLorean …_

The blonde’s head snapped up. _That’s it!_

Emma leaned over the table closer to Tiana. She may not have a DeLorean but in this land there was an abundance of something even better.

“I need magic,” Emma said.

“Magic,” Tiana deadpanned. She straightened in her chair, distancing herself from Emma.

“Yes, a fairy, a wizard, doesn’t matter. Anyone who can cast a spell. Preferably not dark or evil.”

Emma might as well be asking an old lady for drugs with the way Tiana was looking at her. Maybe she should rein in her enthusiasm.

“Perhaps the Blue Fairy?” Emma said more calmly. Someone like the Blue Fairy would be able to help her in her current situation and not be particularly inclined to kill her or demand an impossible deal like Regina and Rumpelstiltskin would. “If I can find _her_ -”

“No. I don’t mix with magic,” Tiana cut in. Her tone was final and from the way she pressed her lips together and looked away, Emma knew the woman was already regretting offering her help.

“I understand but, Tiana, you have to help me,” Emma begged. “You don’t need to get involved. Just give me a hint as to where or how I can find her and I promise, I will get out of your way and you’ll never have to see me again.”

Tiana’s gaze shifted away from Emma on to the other patrons in the tavern. Part of it might be that she was checking on her business but Emma suspected it was also a way to avoid her pleading eyes.

“Tiana, _please_.”

Tiana looked back at her and took a sip from Emma’s abandoned beer.

“What do you need the Blue Fairy for anyway?”

“I got lost,” Emma explained. “And the only way to get back home is through magic.”

It was the best she could describe her situation without giving too much away. Hopefully it would be enough for the reluctant woman to help her.

“If there was any other way I’d take it. Trust me,” Emma added.

Tiana’s thick lips parted but a particularly loud cheer broke out from the table by the door and cut her off before she could speak. The woman slapped her hand on the table and stood up.

“Hey! Does this look like the deck of a ship to you? If you can’t behave like men in here then take your pouches of gold and go and eat with the dogs.”

Knowing all eyes would be turning to Tiana and consequently to her table, Emma turned her head away, hiding her cheek behind the brown fabric of her hood.

The other woman sat back down, her eyes still on the rowdy group.

“These sailors,” Tiana muttered. “Salt water plagues if you ask me. They do bring good business,” she told Emma, “otherwise I’d have them thrown out before their clothes dried.”

Emma forced a polite smile. They weren’t all that bad…

Tiana threw one last deterrent look towards the offending group before focusing back on Emma and their conversation.

“I can’t say I know you but you seem like a decent enough person,” Tiana said. “My advice? Stay away from magic.” She held up a finger to stop Emma from interrupting her. “But, _if_ – as you say- you really need it, then I wish I could help. The truth is I make it a point to stay clear of magic. From my experience hard work pays better in the long run.”

Emma didn’t have time for this.

“I couldn’t agree more," she said, "but this is not a situation I can work myself out of.”

Tiana rolled her eyes. Emma knew she was being stubborn but then Tiana sighed and the woman’s hand went to her necklace, a delicate string of turquoise stones. The one in the centre was slightly bigger than the rest and she rubbed it subconsciously between her fingers while she thought.

“There might be... something,” Tiana considered.

Emma perked up, anxious for any clue Tiana could give her.

“I don’t know about any blue fairies,” she continued, “but I do know where you can find _a_ fairy. She’s a queen, married to a human king so not really a fairy any more, but everyone knows she found a way to keep her magic. There are other magic wielders in the land -at least two that I know off-  but you don’t want to get tangled up with either of them. Whatever trouble you’re in, they’d only make it worse.”

Emma had a pretty good idea who the two magic wielders were.

“This fairy, what’s her name?” Emma asked.

“I don’t know her name. I don’t think anyone in these parts really does. They just call her the Fairy Queen. She’s… a little exclusive.”

“Exclusive?...Exclusive how?”

“For one, no one gets in her castle, and few people have ever even seen her.”

“But she exists?”

“If you believe the stories,” Tiana said with a nod.

Emma was half skepticism, half hope. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something. She was eager to get moving, even if her stomach was growling and her leg muscles were still clenched from all the walking.

“How do I find her?”

The twitch in Tiana’s  lips could not be a good sign.

“ _That_ might be a problem,” Tiana admitted.

Emma scowled, not at Tiana, but at her life. When had anything she wanted ever come easily?

“The Fairy Queen’s kingdom is on an island," Tiana explained. "It’s not that far –a three days journey, four at most, if Poseidon decides it’s been too quiet- but there are no ships covering that route, so you’re going to need someone willing to let you aboard their ship and take you there.”

She needed a sailor. Emma’s thoughts and eyes went to the group by the door. The people gathered around it blocked her view of the actual table. Right on cue, they all cheered raising half-empty mugs and bottles of bronze liquor in the air. Some of the women who were supposed to be waiting tables also hovered around the coarse men, a tray in one hand and a patron in the other.

Emma’s hand had snuck out from under the table and her fingers found the torn edges of the leather strap. _You just can’t stay away, can you, lass?_

Emma sighed. _So much for steering clear of sailors._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter every Sunday. Come find me on tumblr @i-am-wordaholic :) Also follow my lovely beta @coffeewithcaptainswan. Thx for reading! All thoughts and comments are highly welcomed. Lots of love, WordaholiC (aka WatsonMySherlock)


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma finds what she needs... (what we all need, really).

[Just In Time 4 Us](http://i-am-wordaholic.tumblr.com/just-in-time-4-us) on Tumblr :)

 

**_-Chapter 3-_ **

Emma studied the sailors intently, trying to determine which one would be most likely to let her aboard their ship. She needed to get closer, so Emma made a move to stand up. Before she even had a chance to stretch her legs, Tiana reached across the table and anchored Emma’s wrist with one hand.

“Still your wings, Swan. Where do you think you’re going?”

“You said I needed a sailor,” Emma protested, looking back at Tiana. “There’s a whole boatload of them right there. I’m gonna go get myself one.”

Tiana released Emma’s wrist and sat back in her chair, throwing a glance at the men Emma had pointed out. “Not _those_ sailors, trust me. Probably not any of the sailors that come in through this port,” she said, looking around at the rest of her clientele.

Emma wasn’t sure she followed Tiana’s reasoning. What was wrong with _those_ sailors?

“You’ll find a lot of sand and salt water on those men, Swan, but not that many uniforms,” Tiana admonished.

_Oh._

“Pirates,” Emma said matter of factly, settling back down.

Tiana nodded. “And they only respond to one thing: gold. Last time I checked you didn’t have much of that.”

Emma frowned. Ok, so she needed a pirate. That was fine. She knew her way around pirates, right?

_Wrong._ Who was she kidding? She knew her way around _one_ pirate and Emma doubted the reluctant hero Killian Jones was a fair representation of the entire pirating community. It didn’t take much to know that Hook was a special kind of pirate. Hell, he was a special kind of _man_.

Emma’s body sagged in frustration. This whole situation was driving her crazy. To top it off, the next thing she heard was the pirate’s booming voice, loud and clear as if he was standing in the same room as her.

“Tiana, love, where are you?”

_Great, now I’m really going crazy,_ Emma figured, rubbing circles on her temple to drive the craziness away. _Wait, did he say... Tiana?_

Emma didn’t dare to hope, but when Tiana turned at the sound of her name, Emma’s heart started to beat faster.

“Captain,” Tiana said. “What is it now?”

_It can’t be…_ Emma followed Tiana’s gaze and sure enough, sitting at that stupid table by the door with all the other boisterous sailors, was the man she’d been thinking about only seconds ago.

“Hook.” The name left Emma’s lips like a whispered prayer.

The small crowd surrounding his table had moved aside so the captain could speak to Tiana directly, which is why Emma could see him clearly now as opposed to before.

“I was under the impression you ran a respectable establishment around here,” Hook said, “but look, there’s a bloody frog on my boot!”

His leg was stretched out under the table and, just like he said, there was a slim, green frog plopped on top of his boot buckles.

“Not _this_ again,” Emma heard Tiana say. The brown-skinned woman got up and turned towards the bar.

“Louis!” Tiana called out. “I thought I told you to get rid of that thing.”

The frog in question chose that moment to jump from Killian’s boot to the centre of the tavern. There was a general gasp and everyone who’d been standing around observing the spectacle took a step back. A few of the women gathered their skirts and some of the men looked ready to climb the walls to get away from the harmless animal.

A large man with a protruding belly –Louis, Emma presumed- stepped out from behind the bar with an apologetic look on his face and an apron that barely reached his knees.

“I _did_ get rid of it, boss,” he said. “I put it in a jar and everything, took it to the pier all the way across town and set it free there, just like you told me to. I think it just really likes it here, that frog.”

Tiana was not happy. “Well, get it out _now_ ,” she said fuming.

The man took a pan from the counter and started to approach the unsuspecting frog slowly with the intention of _what? Flattening the thing like a pancake?_

Emma couldn’t care less at this point. Hook was here, actually _here_ . Somewhere in the back of her mind Emma knew this wasn’t the Killian she wished it was, only a past version of him _._ Still, as far as familiar faces go, his was a very much welcomed sight, something Emma decided not to dwell on too much.

Besides, past version or not, this Hook was still a captain with a ship, just the thing Emma needed.

_I guess no matter what, no matter_ when or where _, you always find me_.

Her heart tightened at the familiar words, too familiar for them to be meaningless. Was she like _bonded_ to Hook now?

_Of course not. Just because he’s here, it doesn’t mean… No._

Emma wouldn’t even consider the thought. True love, epic love that conquers all, that was David and Mary-Margaret’s thing, not hers. She may have accepted that they were her parents (there was no point in denying it, she loved them too much). She might even grasp the concept of them being the _actual_ Snow White and Prince Charming, but _this_? The all-consuming love story and the fairytale ending? No, that is not how things went for Emma Swan. Emma knew abandonment, and that was it. Besides, Henry was all the true love she could handle.

Hook was completely enraptured by the frog debacle, watching the scene unfold with an amused grin on his face. The glint of rum shone in his eyes and even across the room, Emma was struck again by how unusually blue they were.

There was a woman on either side of Hook. The one to his left, a handsy barwench with long, wavy dark hair, leaned into the pirate and trapped her laced fingers between her chin and his shoulder. Emma recognized the look on the woman’s face. She’d used it herself many times on her bail jumpers. She was trying to lure Hook in.

The pirate wasn’t having it, though. The woman whispered something into his ear and Hook let his weight sway in her direction so she could plant a flirtatious kiss on his cheek but his eyes never left the centre of the tavern and he didn’t spare the woman so much as a smile. Not a genuine one at least.

The whole image irked Emma. And it wasn’t just the gargoyle on Hook’s shoulder, it was how detached he seemed.

Emma had witnessed the pirate’s flirting abilities first hand _many times_ . It was so much a part of him that he would flirt with both her parents without even realising it. But when it was directed at _her_ , Hook’s charm was always focused. He always looked Emma in the eye, paid attention to what she had to say. He made it about her every time.

With _this_ Killian, it was as if the dark-haired woman peppering kisses on him could very well be anyone else. It was somewhat satisfying for Emma knowing that she was special and that he wasn’t particularly inclined to the woman on his shoulder –or to any of the overly eager women around him, for that matter- but at the same time, it was a stark reminder that this wasn’t _Hook_.

It wasn’t the same man who wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to her. This man right here was cold, isolated. He was a pirate, the great Captain Hook, a ladies’ man.

_This_ Killian Jones was still heartbroken.

It made Emma wonder… Had she really had that much of an effect on him? The thought was more than a little frightening.

A loud metallic pang startled Emma out of her musings and back to what was going on in the tavern. Apparently Louis had tried to slam the pan on the frog but instead he had dented the shiny kitchen utensil on the hard stone floor and the slimy creature was now hopping its way towards Tiana, in the direction of Emma’s table. The blonde turned her face towards the wall, away from curious eyes.

“Forget it, I’ll deal with it,” she heard Tiana say.

Emma peeked out of her hood and saw Tiana grab a straw broom from under the wooden stairs. Emma’s eyes widened a little. Was Tiana really planning on hitting the frog with that? She watched as Tiana readied herself, lifting her makeshift weapon over the innocent-looking frog. She brought it down with full force but instead of moving out of the way, the frog let out a single loud croak. Tiana froze, the broom mere inches from hitting its target.

There was something oddly familiar to Emma about the whole situation, something tugging at the edges of her brain, but the blonde frowned as she struggled to put a finger on it.

Tiana was taken aback for a moment but after blinking a couple of times, she gathered herself and readied for a second attack. This time Tiana didn’t seem like she planned on stopping.

Killian’s voice rose above the chatter, everyone turning to look at him, including Emma and Tiana.

“Come now, love,” he said to the pub’s owner. “Let the poor lad be. It’s bad form to hit a fellow when he’s so clearly taken by you.”

His easy smile was so much like the one Emma knew that it actually made her a little angry. _He’s_ not _him,_ she reminded herself _._

Tiana set the broom down, resting her elbow on the crooked stalk.

“Weren’t you the one complaining about the frog on your boot a minute ago, Captain?” Tiana countered with her eyebrow raised.

“He’s grown on me” the captain shrugged. “Now… Well, I think he adds character to the place.”

That drew some laughs from the customers and a scowl from Tiana herself. The woman let out a short huff and turned her gaze on the frog who still hadn’t moved from its spot on the floor.

“This is not over, you hear me?” she threatened. “You can’t hide behind the captain’s hook forever.”

The frog answered by leaping onto a flowerless pot on the windowsill behind Emma. Tiana glared at it before setting the broom back in its place below the stairs.

Emma felt someone’s eyes on her and when she turned towards the window, she realised it was the frog. Its little head was tilted towards Emma and the blonde could have sworn it was smiling at her. _How can it be…? Oh!_

The dots lined up in her head and Emma finally realized what was so familiar about Tiana and the ‘frog’. Now she felt kind of foolish. _Of course it’s_ that _frog. What else could it be in this damn fairytale land?_

That was it, no more fairy tales. She needed to get out of this place, out of this time, and back to where she belonged: with Henry. And now she had just the way to do it.

Emma ventured a glance at Hook. He was throwing dice on the table, laughing and celebrating his good fortune with a shot of rum. The woman with long dark hair was _still_ leaning on his shoulder ( _Doesn’t she know when to quit?)_ but as Emma pushed her chair back to stand, Hook looked up from his game and their eyes met. Even across the noisy tavern, he couldn’t look away.

It was a sign, Emma decided. Hook was definitely the way. She broke eye contact with the pirate and called out to Tiana. The woman looked back at her expectantly..

“I’m gonna need another favor,” Emma said.

Tiana crossed her arms over her chest and listened as Emma explained.

* * *

 

Tiana’s room above the tavern was a lot like the woman herself: understated and classy, with a warmth that radiated from every single piece of rustic furniture, like the simple rectangular mirror Emma was currently checking herself in. The blonde was trying on her third set of borrowed clothing, looking for the one set that would really up her chances.

_I think we have a winner_ , she thought as she swiveled a little in front of the mirror to check the line of buttons on the back of her drapey maroon skirts. The wooden frame reflected Emma from the top of her blonde head to the tip of her boot-clad toes. She’d decided to keep her own boots since none of Tiana’s would fit her and they were simple enough to pass as Enchanted Forest attire. Plus, August had liked them so they were OK.

Tiana sat at the edge of her bed, folding the clothes that had been discarded. It’d been funny to see the expression on her face when Emma removed her stolen cloak and revealed her modern day clothing. Fortunately for Emma, Tiana wasn’t big on prying questions so other than a raised brow and a confused look, she’d made no comment about it.

Emma fixed the sleeves of her linen shirt. They reached just below her elbows and after giving them a slight tug, Emma stared at herself in the mirror with a frown. It suddenly struck her that if her parents had been able to stay in the Enchanted Forest and raise her like they wanted to, this would’ve been her normal. She would’ve grown up in corsets and long skirts, learning about magic and how to rule a kingdom, a _fairytale_ kingdom. _Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming_. She might have even had a crown.

It sounded so bizarre. And yet, standing here dressed like someone out of a medieval fairytale, Emma had to admit she didn’t look that out of place. In fact, she looked just like those women surrounding Hook down in the tavern. _Well, hopefully I look_ better _than that ‘cause I actually need him to look at me._

She smoothed the gathered fabric at the front of her skirts and turned to face Tiana.

“Well, how do I look?” Emma asked, stretching her arms out.

Tiana let out a heavy sigh and set a recently folded shirt next to her on the bed. “Are you sure about this, Swan?”

“What- Why?” Emma gazed down at herself. “Does it look weird?”

“The clothes are fine,” Tiana answered. “I mean... are you sure about what you’re doing.”

Emma turned away from her to face the mirror again. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you down there.” Tiana warned, standing up and setting her fists on her hips. Emma met the woman’s eyes in the mirror. “You were staring at the Captain,” Tiana finished.

“Captain? What captain?” Emma’s voice came out a little too pitchy.

Tiana raised her hand to stop Emma from digging herself any deeper. “I know you need a ship but... Captain Jones? He’s a _pirate_ , Swan. He may not look like one, with the easy smiles and the ocean blue eyes, but he’s dangerous. And he’s ancient too, you know? People think it’s legend but I’ve heard his crew talking after a little too much ale. And drunks don’t lie. The captain’s had more than a few years to sail the seas. _All_ the seas.”

Emma looked down, fidgeting with the strings of her too-tight leather corset. Tiana was a lot less curvy than Emma, so the stiff garment was currently digging an impression into the blonde’s spleen. She had a feeling Tiana wasn’t just talking about the bodies of water Hook had been to, but the _other_ bodies as well.

“If you can’t even fool _me_ ,” Tiana continued, “what makes you think you can fool a seasoned pirate like Captain Jones?”

“I don’t need to fool him,” Emma said, turning around. “I just need to convince him to take me to the Fairy Queen. Don’t worry, I can handle Hook.”

“ _Hook?_ ” Tiana’s brow shot up. “You know the Captain,” she assumed.

“I… uh, no, of course not. I know _of_ him. Everyone does,” Emma amended. ”I’ll be fine.”

Tiana didn’t look convinced and Emma wanted to appease her. After all, the tavern owner had been nothing but helpful to her since they met despite Emma being a penniless stranger.

“I know going to _the captain_ for help is risky but I have to do this, Tiana.” Emma started picking up her own discarded clothes from the back of a tall rocking chair, rolling her jeans as she spoke. “I noticed those pictures you have on your mantle,” Emma said. Tiana shifted uncomfortably.

Her gaze went to the picture frames Emma was talking about. There were two of them on top of her stone fireplace. One, a hand painted portrait of a family of three: a kind-looking man, a woman with big eyes and full lips, just like Tiana’s, and a baby. The second one -the one that told Emma’s keen eye about Tiana’s tragic past- was a portrait of a young Tiana with an older version of the woman from the first picture. The man, Tiana’s father, was gone.

“Family is important to you,” Emma said, “and it’s important to me, too. I just need to get back to my son. He can’t grow up like I did. Like _you_ did.”

If Neverland had taught Emma anything, it was that orphans were the same in any realm. Tiana wouldn’t wish the pain of losing a parent on any child.

Just like Emma thought, after looking at the pictures for a while Tiana let out a sigh and grabbed a leather satchel from the wooden rack by the door.

“Here,” she said handing the satchel to Emma. “Just, be careful. And _don’t_ forget who you’re dealing with.”

“I won’t.”

Emma started putting her things in the satchel, her clothes and Henry’s book. Aside from the boots, she’d also kept the strap from Hook’s jacket tied around her wrist. Once again she’d thought about discarding it but couldn’t bring herself to untie the knot so she just left it there and did her best to ignore it. Emma slung the satchel across her chest but the way it pressed on her corset made it hard for Emma to breath so she pulled the satchel off and hung it on her shoulder instead.

“How do you wear this every day?” Emma complained, tugging at the ends of the corset.

Tiana smirked. “Well, for one my chest doesn’t try to escape from it when _I_ wear it.”

Emma looked down. She had to admit her chest did look like it was trying to burst out. It was ‘hunting cleavage’, much more than she would show on a regular day. But this was no regular day. She was on a mission. _All is fair in… nevermind._

“Ready?” Tiana asked. “I need to get back down there and make sure Louis hasn’t burned himself... or my place.”

“I’m ready,” Emma answered, grabbing her cloak from the rack and folding it over her arm.

Tiana stepped out in the hallway and Emma turned around to take one last look around and make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and had to laugh. _Bar wench Emma, what do you know_. Emma followed Tiana out the door.

The other woman had already started going down the stairs but then Emma remembered something and called after her.

“Wait!”

Tiana stopped and turned to her. “What?”

“Just one more thing.” Emma met Tiana on the stairs. “Don’t kill the frog, ok? Who knows? It might be just what you need… for the business.”

Tiana frowned at her and kept going down the stairs, mumbling about slimy frogs having too many guardians. Emma bit her lip as she considered whether or not she should tell Tiana her “the frog is a prince” theory but she quickly decided against it. Emma couldn’t afford to look any crazier here and besides, she’d probably done enough damage as it was. (It was hard to remember she was supposed to be minding the timeline.) No, Emma had done what she could, and now it was up to Tiana to keep her frog prince alive.

* * *

 

It’d been a good night for Killian and his men. He was finally back in the Enchanted Forest after so many damn years in that sweaty, gods-forsaken jungle Pan and his gang of misfits called home. If he didn’t set foot in Neverland for the rest of his life, it would be too soon. _Never again_ , Killian swore.

His only regret was not taking more of those lost boys to the grave before he left. Ending Rufio had been satisfying at least.

Now that he was back, he finally knew what he needed to kill the crocodile. He also knew it wouldn’t be easy, getting his hands on that dagger, but Killian Jones was nothing if not patient. He could play the waiting game a little longer until the right opportunity presented itself and when it did, he would be ready and the Dark One would finally know his revenge.

In the meantime, there was no reason for him not to enjoy doing what he did best: filling his chests with treasure and spending it on rum, and ultimately adding to the legend of Captain Hook and his fearsome crew, the terrors of the high seas. It was definitely a good night when his men were happy and the women complacent.

_Ah, the women._ They were as familiar to him as the waters surrounding the Enchanted Forest. A hundred years he’d spent on that bloody island and the women here were still the same, an endless sea of bodies and indistinct faces. It was all the same to him. Except for the ones he’d wronged. like Ursula. Those he kept hidden in the darkest corners of his soul, along with the disappointment he’d surely be inspiring in his brother Liam if he could see what his little brother had become.

But tonight was not for that. Tonight was for drinking and throwing dice and telling stories that would keep a lady on his lap. Speaking of ladies, where had that one gone? He’d only met her eyes for a second but it was all he could think about now. Something in the set of her mouth told him she was as clever as she was beautiful.

Her head had been covered by the hood of her cloak but Killian thought he’d caught a glimpse of her hair, golden like the sun at midday. He wondered if it was also as blinding as the daylight star but he might never get a chance to find out. The lady was nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps he’d drank too much already and was imagining things. In any case, if those were the kind of visions he was getting, he might as well keep the drinks coming.

The pirate downed another shot of rum and rolled the dice again. Lady Fortuna had been smiling down upon him all night and this throw was no exception. Killian cheered as the old sailor across the table from him groaned and the women sitting by his side both squealed.

“You win again, Captain. I think you deserve a prize,” the one to his left said right in his ear. Killian’s good humour faltered. _Isn’t there a tray you should be carrying around, love?_

The woman and her spilling bosom had fallen on his side almost as soon as he and his men came through the door. It’s not that she was not handsome but with her long dark hair she looked too much like Milah for him to enjoy the sight of her. Killian also knew what her idea of a prize might be and he just couldn’t bring himself to be tempted.

“I believe that’s what this gentleman’s coins are for,” Killian said, trying to hide his annoyance and collecting the poor lad’s gold into his own pouch.

“Serves me right for trying the table with you at it, Jones,” the old sailor said. The chair’s legs scraped loudly against the floor as the man got up, his jar of ale in hand. “I think I’ve learned my lesson… for tonight anyway.”

The two men shared a laugh and Killian saluted him with a flourish of his hand. “Always my pleasure to impart wisdom to a fellow mariner.”

As soon as the other man left the table, Killian could feel the brunette leaning in closer to his side. It was time to send her on her way and find someone he might actually want to take back to the Roger. Preferably that blonde… _Where’d she go?_

As if summoned by his desire, the woman leaned before him, setting her hands on his table. Her cloak was gone and Killian wondered what had possessed her to hide all that hair and porcelain skin under so much cumbersome fabric before? Her eyes were green like the sea near a sandy shore and her clever lips turned up in a crooked smile.

“What are you boys playing?” she said, and Killian was sure the woman had to be a mermaid or a bloody siren. All he wanted was to hear that voice again.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma sets her plan in motion and Killian meets his very own siren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's tardiness is brought to you by Real Life Problems™, the ones you can't escape from. (I'm sorry, guys, I really did try.)

_**-Chapter 4-** _

Emma made sure Hook’s eyes were trained on her as she leaned over his table. _So far, so good_ , she thought as she watched the pirate’s gaze travel down her jaw, her neck and then onto her chest where the roundness of her breasts disappeared beneath the rough fabric of her blouse, the view heightened by the painful corset.

She tried not to flinch under Hook’s scrutiny. It’s not that she wasn’t used to being ogled by men, or even by Hook himself for that matter, but this was the first time she was actively seeking his attention, his _physical_ attention that is, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling a little self-conscious ( _and OK, maybe a little excited, too, but that’s beside the point_ ).

Once Hook was done with his inspection, he returned his eyes to hers and offered, “Why don’t you sit down, love? I’ll teach you all about the game.”

Emma eyed the empty chair next to her. She considered taking it but she knew she needed to focus Hook’s attention if he was ever going to let her aboard his ship. The competition had to go, so Emma opted for the ‘act playful’ strategy.

She straightened up slowly, letting her hands drag over the wooden table until only her fingertips were touching the surface. She dipped her voice and kept her eyes on Hook’s.

“There’s no room for me,” she said.

The pirate looked down and a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Quite the contrary, love, your arrival couldn’t be more prompt. I was about to run out of company. See, _these_ fair maidens here-” Hook gestured to the women beside him, “were just about to return to their duties. Isn’t that right, darlings?” he said more than asked them.

The barmaiden to his right rolled her eyes at him without any real bite, probably used to the pirate’s wandering eye already. She got up, not before placing a kiss on Hook’s cheek, and picked up her abandoned cleaning rag from the pirate’s table.

“See you next time, Captain,” she winked at him before departing to find herself a new patron.

The one to his left, however, that brunette Emma had noticed earlier, was clearly not happy at all. The woman forced a tight smile at Hook and had nothing but daggers for Emma. 

 _Give it up, honey, I’ve seen the crystal ball and you’re not in it_ , Emma thought.

The few lingering sailors who were still at Hook’s table were quick to take the hint and made themselves scarce, leaving Emma and Hook alone in their staring contest.

“All yours,” Hook said suggestively, twiringl his hand to the empty seat beside him. He caught his lower lip between his teeth in what Emma knew was his way of taunting her.

“We’ll see about that,” Emma said as she rounded the table and sat down.

Hook angled his body towards her and lifted his hand to get a servant’s attention. Barely two seconds later someone placed a small silver cup on the table for Emma -it reminded her of those serving vessels one of her foster guardians had to pour honey in her tea-, also replacing the pirate’s dwindling bottle of rum with a new one.

Emma didn’t even see who had served them. Hook was too close and it took all her determination to hold his blue-eyed gaze. He kept drinking her in, his eyes shifting from her mouth, to her eyes, to her hair, filing away the details of her face. ( _No hope of him not remembering me now._ ) Perhaps she should include a memory spell in her request to the Fairy Queen.

When he finally looked away to fill their glasses, Emma let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. Hook dipped his head to get the bottle open with his teeth and Emma noticed the way his dark hair fell on his forehead, how the strands stuck up behind his pointed ear, probably from that annoying habit he had of scratching that spot when he was trying to act coy. She followed the angle of his jaw down to his neck where a single silver chain held two old-fashioned charms: a sword and a skull. She’d seen those a hundred times before peeking out of his collar. Hook was _so_ familiar, his presence so known to her. Even the way he smelled, a mixture of leather, and salt, and strong liquor.

Since their adventure in Neverland, having Hook around meant having an ally, someone who’d come through for her, who’d be on her side. She ached to tell him who she was, to see the light of recognition in his eyes as he said her name. Knowing that she _couldn’t_ tell him, that even if she did all he would see would be a pretty stranger, well, it hurt more that she’d anticipated.

Her thoughts went to that morning in New York when Hook showed up at her door and tried to kiss her into remembering; (the implications of that were still marked as ‘To Be Dealt With Later’). _Is this how you felt when you came to me in New York?_ This loneliness, this nostalgia for something that she’d found and had now lost… it was something Emma had never experienced before in all her years of leaving people and places behind. The tightness in her heart was drowning and she blinked back desperately at the tears that stung her eyes. She couldn’t afford to cry right now.

Emma found her composure just as Hook turned back to hand her the tiny silver cup filled to the brim with rum.

“So, you’re interested in the game,” he said, clinking his own cup with hers.

Emma hid her inner turmoil behind an expertly practiced smile and downed the drink in one go.

“Not really,” she said. The rum was good at easing some of the tightness around her heart.

“Ah, quite deceitful then, aren’t we, love?” he asked amused.

Emma shrugged. “Only when I have to be.”

There. Now if she had to keep lying to him to get what she needed, at least Hook couldn’t say she hadn’t warned him.

The pirate chuckled and collected the dice in his hand, twirling them absently between his fingers.

“Since you do not wish to play... what shall we do pass the time?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Emma grabbed the rum bottle and refilled both their cups. “We can think of something. For instance, I hear sailors are great at telling stories. Why don’t you tell me one?”

Hook leaned in closer, invading her space.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of stories, lass, but I much more enjoy making new ones than telling old ones. Specially when in such… inspiring company.”

Emma’s eyes traveled down to his lips before she caught herself and brought them back up.

“There will be time for that,” she said, placing her hand on his leather-clad knee and smoothing it up his thigh to where he’d rested his hook. Emma’s fingertips brushed tentatively against the cold metal.

“First I’d like to see if there’s any truth to what they say about you, Captain.” Emma lifted his hook between them, running her fingers along the dangerous curve as Hook’s eyes followed the slow, deliberate motion. “I’ve heard so many stories…” she said.

_That got his attention._

Hook downed the rest of his drink, clearing his throat as the rum burned its way down. “Alright, love. You want tales? I’ll give you a dashing tale. I’ll tell you as many tales as you wish.”

Emma let go of his hook and took a sip from her own drink, locking eyes with him over the cup. She knew appealing to his storyteller side would give her the in she needed.

... . ... . ...

They were two full stories and half a bottle of rum into the night and Emma still hadn’t brought up the subject of the Fairy Queen. Hook was fully engrossed in his own storytelling, his hand gestures becoming grander and more elaborate as the third story of the night reached its climax. Emma took the time to run over the details of her plan in her head..

Basically, she needed to get to the Queen’s island while disrupting the timeline as little as possible. It bothered her that she was using what she knew of Hook’s weaknesses (aka rum and… well, herself) to get on his ship, but these were desperate times. Plus, whether he knew who she was or not, Emma still felt safer being around the pirate -not that she would admit as much.

Once she got to the island, Emma would appeal to the Queen’s good nature, disappear back to her time and everything would be fine. Hook could carry on with his life until the day they _actually_ met at the scene of Cora’s carnage. _That is if the Queen doesn’t have a problem adding a memory spell to the time travelling thing..._

Things could go horribly wrong, she knew that. What if Hook’s little detour to drop Emma off was enough to alter things in the future? What if the Queen didn’t agree to help her? There were too many _ifs_. Still, it was either this or getting stuck in the past forever, and Emma was willing to take her chances.

“…and just as the first man was about to throw himself overboard into the arms of the sea, _a royal vessel_ cuts right through the horizon, heading straight for us. You could smell the gold in its sails, lass, as sure as you can smell salt in the ocean breeze. It took the Jolly two strides to reach it and then well, it was like a sunny day at the market; crates of food and gold and good wine for all! My men and I had a grand feast that night… as did the fish.”

Hook finished his story with a wink and another shot of rum and it was Emma’s turn to force a smile. This was the second story he told that ended in pillage and plunder (and murder, if that bit about the fish getting a meal wasn’t just an exaggeration for the sake of the story). As much as she liked to joke about Hook’s pirating ways, it was hard to reconcile the stories he told with the man she knew, specially when Hook was telling them without a single trace of remorse in his blue eyes. _If_ he had any remorse, then he was really good at hiding it.

“So I was right,” Emma told him. “You’re quite the storyteller.”

“Ah, but they’re not just stories, love. The Jolly and I have sailed through many adventures together.”

“Sounds like quite the ship.”

“She’s more than a ship. The Jolly Roger has the heart of a pirate, fearless and resilient. I have a feeling the two of you would get along splendidly.”

_A move in the right direction..._

“Well, then... I guess I’ll have to meet this ship of yours,” Emma said suggestively.

“Now that sounds like a marvelous plan, darling.” Hook took a strand of Emma’s hair and looped the end around his index, while his thumb ran circles around it.

It was an oddly tender pause in the sultry banter they’d been sharing for the past hour or so. Emma was suddenly drawn back to the moment they kissed in Neverland. She remembered grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and wiping the smug look off his face to prove a point, but right now she felt herself leaning in slowly into his orbit, pulled in by the memory of his lips.

The smell of rum was strong and enticing. Emma bit her lip as the last of her resolve screamed for her to stop. Fortunately –or not, who knows- fate intervened as Tiana materialized by their table, effectively breaking whatever spell Hook’s eyes had trapped Emma in.

“Everything alright over here?” Tiana asked.

Hook pulled back, Emma’s hair slipping from his fingers, and the blonde breathed in deeply to clear the alcohol induced haze from her mind.

“Tiana! Just the lass I wanted to see,” he said a little tightly. “Everything is splendid, love. So splendid in fact that I wish to settle my tab early tonight. See, the lady and I are taking our leave. And we’re also taking this rum,” he added, standing up and grabbing the bottle by its neck.

“Of course you are, if you can pay for it,” Tiana challenged, fishing the note pad out of her apron.

“When have I ever left a debt behind?” Hook protested. Tiana gave him a pointed look. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Tiana mumbled, ripping a rustic piece of paper from her pad and handing it to Hook who pulled out his pouch and started weighing coins. “And anyway, I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Swan.”

Hook looked up from his gold. “So _that’s_ your name, lass!” he said to Emma excitedly. “I was beginning to think you didn’t have one.”

_I’m definitely going to need that memory spell now._

There was no hiding it now so Emma quirked her eyebrow at him.

“What’s the matter, Captain? Afraid of a little mystery?”

“Not at all, _Swan_ , not at all.”

The familiar sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver down Emma’s spine. She was already regretting this plan. 

_You’ve done this before, Emma, just a few days on a ship with Hook._

She chose to ignore the part where last time she’d done that both her parents had been there too, as well as Gold and Regina. Not exactly a romantic setting.

(And yet…)

Tiana gave Emma an apologetic look when she realized she’d inadvertently given away more information than Emma had wished to share.

Emma got up and reached for Tiana’s wrist gently. “It’s ok,” Emma whispered. “Thank you... for everything you’ve done.”

Tiana side-glanced Hook, who had gone back to counting his coins, and leaned in closer to Emma, keeping her voice low. “You can thank me by coming back here in one piece so I’m not responsible for sending Uncle Giuseppe’s friend into certain death… or worse,” Tiana countered.

Emma smiled. “I’ll make sure Geppetto knows what a great help his niece was.”

“He’s not really my uncle, Geppetto, but he’s family. He’s been a father, a grandfather, and a friend to me, all rolled into one.” Tiana smiled -a rare sight as far as Emma knew.  

“When I was little,” Tiana told her, “I used to go to his shop and help him stack the plywood for his puppets. Then Pinocchio came along and I got so jealous,” she laughed. “Geppetto said I should start calling him by his full name instead of his nickname so people would know I was special to him.”

Emma would have to ask Marco about Tiana’s fate when she got back. Had she turned her prince before Regina’s curse hit?

“It’s great having people like that just wanting to be your family,” Emma said.

“Yes, and it’s still terrible when they’re taken away, so you get back your son safely, OK?”

Emma barely got a chance to nod before Hook chimed in.

“Having second thoughts, love? I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me. Isn’t that right, Tiana?”

“Don’t expect me to lie for you, Jones,” Tiana said sternly.

Hook laughed and grabbed Emma’s satchel, crossing it over his chest.

“Always the gracious host, darling,” he said. Hook put the coins in Tiana’s hand and turned it over so he could press a kiss to her knuckles. “You will keep my new amphibian friend alive until my return, won’t you, love?”

“Forget about the frog,” Tiana said, yanking her hand back. “ _She_ better come back with you.  Unharmed,” Tiana warned.

“Ah! A sailor can dream!” he said, fixing Emma with a charged look. “Shall we, love?”

Emma exchanged her goodbyes with Tiana and led the way to the door, while Hook placed his hand on her lower back and nudged her forward.

... . ... . ...

All the way through the cobbled streets of the coastal village, Killian tried to get closer to his mysterious siren, but the lass, _Swan_ , oh! she was clever. Every time he got his arms around her or managed to get her pinned against the bricks of a wall, the bloody temptress found a way to distract him and slip away, leaving him both frustrated and wildly intrigued. That is why, he supposed, he kept stumbling after her, guiding her turns with his hand on her hip, leading her towards the docks.

His lack of luck at getting the upper hand on her may have something to do with how much rum he’d drank. He was finally starting to feel the effects of the drink which was odd since he could have sworn the lass had matched him drink for drink all night. Yet, unlike him, she seemed completely unaffected, strolling over the cobble paths with ease, taking in the village with quiet wonder.

It was a strange sort of anticipation he felt leading this woman back to his ship. He knew _why_ he was taking her there -knew why he usually took women there- but despite the very real desire to press her against the mast of the Jolly and feel her as much as his senses would allow, he wasn’t thinking about the act itself so much as he was thinking about _her_.

_And bloody hell, if she would just stand still long enough for me to kiss her!_

She was a curious thing, this Swan, beautiful as she ran her fingertips along the wood and stone windowsills with the moonlight bouncing off her golden hair.

He knew he had a plan to cater to. He could only allow himself passing, meaningless dalliances in his quest for revenge. Women were fine, _intriguing_ women, on the other hand er... hook? were dangerous. This lass with her teasing eyes and her clever lips might be the most intriguing woman he’d encountered thus far in his three hundred years, which made her a particularly dangerous distraction.

It’d been mere hours since they met and already she was consuming his every thought.  He wondered about her secrets, about the reason why sometimes it seemed as if she knew him, really knew him. Perhaps she really _was_ a siren, a creature sent by the seas specially for him as his very own day of reckoning (gods knew he deserved it). _Or perhaps I’ve just drank too much rum and I need to give her that bloody kiss so I can purge this sweet water out of my system._

They finally made it to the Jolly and Killian helped her up onto the plank connecting the ship to the docks.

“Behold, the Rolly Joger!” he said, sweeping his arms wide.

There was something off about that statement, he figured as the beautiful siren beside him giggled, but he couldn’t quite catch what it was. Swan rolled her eyes and walked the short plank, hopping onto the deck of the ship.

“Impressive,” she said turning to face Killian. “Very sturdy.”

“Aye, and you’ve yet to see the best part, love,” he said joining her on the deck, snaking his hook behind her in an effort to tug her towards him.

“Really?” She brought her gloved hands to his shoulders, effectively keeping his torso at bay. His thighs pressed against hers through the many layers of fabric..

“Hmm,” he hummed.

“Let me guess. The captain’s quarters.”

“Why, you never told me you were such a ship connaisseur, love.”

She pushed back from him, throwing a smirk his way, and said, “I don’t need to know ships. I know men.”

Killian followed her.

“Ah, but you hadn’t met _me_ yet,” he said.

“Right.”

She seemed amused by that. He could inquire as to what exactly was so entertaining to her, but as the years had taught him, a woman’s fancies were as deep and unfathomable as the sea itself so instead he chose to focus on the task ahead.

“I _did_ want to show you my quarters, love, but only because I believe a nightcap was promised and that’s where I keep the good cups,” he said, closing the distance between them. Her eyes were not just green, there were flecks of hazel and gold in them, an entire reef beneath the saline water.

“How else are we to enjoy this rum we brought back from Tiana’s?” he said, his voice low.

“Well, if it’s for the rum…”

“Aye.”

She was finally holding still, one of those puzzling moments where she seemed to look past him as she gazed into his eyes. Killian leaned forward, angling his head in search of an entrance, a weak point in her fortress that would allow him in. He could only imagine how her lips would taste once he finally-

“Captain!”

Killian would murder Smee one of these days, he was sure of it.

The moment had passed. Swan took the bottle of rum from his hand and disappeared down the hatch that led to his quarters, not before she threw back the hint of a smile at him.

His first mate walked up to him, confusion written all over his face. “Back from the tavern so soon?”

“Smee! It is such a rare pleasure for a captain to be questioned by one of his crew,” Killian spat with no small amount of sarcasm.

Smee cowered back, hunching his shoulders. He looked so much like a rat when he did that.

“Sorry, Cap. Did you wish to set sail now? Half the crew is sti-”

“No! I do not wish to set sail now, Smee. What I _wish_ is for my damn first mate to give me some bloody privacy! Or is that too much to ask?”

Smee shook his head in a nervous plea. “No, of course not. Forgive me. I-”

 

“Aye, aye.” Killian waved him off annoyed. “Mind the deck, will you?” he ordered dismissively. The captain took two steps towards the open hatch when a thought jumped out at him and he turned.

“Smee, I shouldn’t have to say this, but given your recent incompetence I think I might as well: Unless this ship in on fire or under attack, do _not_ come knocking down that hatch. Is that clear?” The curve of his hook pressed pointedly at the short man’s chest and Killian gave him the most fearsome look he could conjure.

“Clear as a summer’s day, Cap.”

“Good,” he said, pulling his hook back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a woman waiting for me below deck and she’s far too beautiful for me to be standing here talking to you.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Shut the bloody hell up, Smee!”

... . ... . ...

When Killian stumbled down the narrow stairs to his quarters, he found Swan running her fingers over the maps and the sextants he had mounted up on his wall. She’d lit a few candles here and there, enveloping the room in a soft, orange glow.

When she heard the stairs creak beneath his boots, she turned to face him. Her gloves were resting on the table in the middle of his office but her long brown cloak was still covering her shoulders, a metal clasp keeping it secure around her neck.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to drink alone,” she said, moving to the table to retrieve the bottle and force the cork out of it. “You said something about cups...”

“Aye, that I did.” Killian took the last steps down, remembering to lower down the hatch behind him. (He wouldn’t put it past Smee to come barging in if he left it open, and then he would really need to start looking for a new first mate). He went to a small cabinet in the corner of the room and took out two shiny silver cups.

“These are fancy,” she said, taking the one he offered her and putting it on the table so she could fill it.

“They belonged to a fancy king,” he told her. “One of the perks of being captain. You get to choose what part of the spoils to keep.”

The lass sobered at that, only a tight hum coming from her in response as she took slow, cautious sips from her drink. Killian filled his own drink and searched his brain for a way to break the heavy silence that was dragging between them.

“So, tell me, Swan,” he said finally. “What caused a woman such as yourself to venture alone through the likes of Misthaven? From what I hear, the roads are crawling with all sorts of thieves and bandits. Not to mention the black knights. And then there’s the seas… well, the seas have _me_ ,” he finished with a smirk.

She took a moment to consider her answer. Killian half expected whatever she said to be a lie. (After all, who was he to be privy to her plans and motivations?) However, when she finally voiced it, her words sounded like truth.

“My parents are from here,” she said.

“But not you,” Killian guessed.

Another pause.

“No, not me... Not really.”

“Well, here’s to birthplaces and family dwellings that fall short of being home.” Killian downed his drink even as she kept taking only sips from hers. Perhaps that’s how she managed to keep her wits about her and he just hadn’t been paying attention.

“This ship right here is all the home I need. And the best part is I can carry it with me, just like my rum,” he said, picking up the much lighter bottle and filling his ‘fancy cup’ to the brim.

Swan’s mouth curled up a smile that wrinkled the corners of her eyes and he found the sight just as enticing as the sound of her voice when she first spoke to him.

_Dangerous, too dangerous..._

Killian got up, holding on to the chair for support as the room took one quick spin around him. When it finally settled down, he offered his hand to her.

“Come on, love. Grab the bottle. I still have to give you the grand tour.”

Swan took his hand, and the rum, and stood up to join him.

He collected both of the cups’ handles with his hook and led her to the only door in the room besides the hatch. He let go of Swan to get the door, holding it open for her.

“After you, love,” he said gesturing her forward.

She did as he asked and went through.

Once she was inside Killian heard her sigh and say, “Right, I’d forgotten this was here.”

Killian followed her in, frowning at the odd phrase.

“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t quite catch that.”

They were in his _sleeping_ quarters; the only exit from the room was the door they’d just gone through.

“I asked if _this_ is your idea of the grand tour,” she said without missing a beat.

“Ah! Well, the rest of the tour is best done in the morning, when the sun is up,” he said, setting the cups down in a low shelf by the berth.

“So in this scenario,” she said behind him, “I would still be here in the morning,”

“Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather be.”

Killian lit a match and started bringing a few lamps to life, enough so that he could make his way through the small room without tripping gracelessly over a chair. Once he was satisfied with the light, he blew the match and took one of the lamps, turning to face his companion. “In which case, I must say I can be rather convincing when I-”

His lips parted as he took in the sight of her. She’d taken off her cloak -the heavy garment was now draped over her arm- and the lights and shadows of the room played tricks on her skin... and on his mind. He’d seen many a creature emerge from the depths of cold, dark waters, but none as entrancing as the woman currently standing in his cabin.

Her skin and the golden strands around her face had taken on the warm hue of the flames while the top of her head shone almost white against the cool backdrop of moonlight coming in through the narrow landscape window behind her.

She chuckled. “When you what?”

Killian was at a loss, both for words and for his sanity. His brain was swimming in rum and the pounding of his heart matched the pounding in his head. He could see her dissolve and reappear in beats of light, like a vision over the burning sands of the desert.

_Bloody hell, would you stop moving?!_

“Moving? What are you talking about? Hook, I haven’t taken a step.”

Her voice resounded in his ears with a loud echo. _For Triton’s sake_. He could feel his grip on the lamp loosening as the ship tilted sideways and his knee met the hardwood floor. He waited to hear the crash from the lamp as it fell as well, half thinking about calling out for Smee to put out the fire that was sure to ensue - _it would not be the first time_ -, but the crash never came, so he guessed neither did the fire.

Instead Killian was surrounded by the smell of spices. _Cinnamon and... something sweet..._

Swan’s surprisingly strong arms hugged his shoulders, keeping Killian from collapsing all the way to the floor and straightening him up.

“Hook? Hey, Hook, look at me. Hook!”

He tried to focus his eyes but the room twirling around him messed with the compass in his stomach so he opted for burying his face on Swan’s shoulder instead.

“Okaaay.” she dragged out.

Killian groaned into her neck -this was not the evening he’d planned- and her shoulder shook beneath him as she patted his back. “Alright buddy, I gotcha, come on.”

Swan grabbed on to his biceps and shook a little, calling out to him by his moniker. He was too disoriented, his head going round and round like a magic bean thrown in the water. The lass closed her fists around his collar and gave it a firm tug.

“Killian!”

The pirate opened his eyes to the welcoming sight of Swan’s green irises.

“Look, I’m gonna need you to help me out here, ok? I haven’t done an arms day in a while so I don’t think carrying you bridal style to the bed is gonna be an option.”

_What?_

It must have been some terribly cheap rum Tiana served him today. Killian had never had this much trouble deciphering human speech before. His eyes narrowed as he started to lose focus again.

“No, no, no, no, no… Hey, Hook, come on, _Hook!_ ” ” She released one side of his collar to pat Killian’s cheek until his eyelids lifted again.

“That’s it,” she said, taking his face in her hands to keep his eyes leveled with hers. “Stay with me, Killian.”

There they were, those green irises again.

“You’re bloody beautiful, lass,” he said giving voice to his thoughts. Killian was sure the grin on his face was wholly unbecoming of a pirate but he would not be shamed for speaking the truth.

Swan smirked, rolling her eyes a bit at his silliness, but even in his less than sober state, Killian noticed the slight rouge that tinged her cheeks.

“Not brilliant, huh?” she asked.

“Sure, that too,” he said, still grinning.

“Why am I not surprised? Of course you’d be a flirty drunk.”

She struggled to get him to a standing position and after a bit of maneuvering, Killian felt the familiar springs of his cot protest under the weight of his back. Somewhere in the back of his mind Killian registered Swan complaining about his boots having too many knots and buckles and then shoving Killian’s long legs and his arm onto the narrow bed nestled against the wall. She sat down on the edge of it with a long, heavy sigh.

“My God, are you always this heavy? I hate hauling men when they’re drunk. All of a sudden you turn into a ton of brick, why is that?”

Eyes closed, he patted the cot looking for Swan’s hand and when he caught it, he brought it up to his chest, ignoring her half-hearted protests as he placed her hand palm down under his own.

“So bloody beautiful…” he mumbled as the last shreds of consciousness drifted away from him.

The last words Killian heard before drifting off were hers. 

“I guess we’re taking that grand tour in the morning after all.”

Killian’s breathing evened out and he rode the sound of her voice into a quiet, dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thx for reading! Next up: Mornings at the Jolly Roger xD


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